


Wilson.

by Atomics



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Titans (Comics)
Genre: "coming of age", Abusive Households, Bad Parenting, Cause and Effect, Child Abuse, a family story, family perspectives, isolated upbringings, no one here is really going to understand boundaries, shitty homes, the titans inspired me to finally commit to a story like this, warning you now this will probably delve into sexual abuse as well, will add character and relationship tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atomics/pseuds/Atomics
Summary: Everybody's gotta grow up sometime. Somehow.





	1. Prelude

There was yelling, almost muffled in the background as they watched the screen. Blurry characters traverse some fantasy world. Brown and blond hair respectively cast in the blue tones of the television that by all rights shouldn’t work. The family didn’t live much of anywhere, the best way to describe it would be they lived right smack in nowhere. Sounds of bugs, owls and birds as common a backdrop as the hollering and clashes. The ricochet of a rifle going off. 

Glass shattered with a BANG and both bodies jumped in unison. Dual pair of eyes meeting and his brother started to stand up. Aggressively he shook his head. He was older. The big brother. He should be the one to go. Cranked up the dial for the television volume as far as it went, until the sound nearly drowned out everything else. 

Now the banging was on the door to their room. _“You kids think you’re fucking clever? Turn that ratchet down, NOW!” _

The older brother just pulled open the door. Chest puffed and angry eyes, though his father’s shadow towered over him. “Would you guys shut up?? You’re scaring Joey!” 

_“I’ll show you scare—”_ swoosh of air cut my something sharp. Thump of knife embedding in the wood besides his dad’s head. Dad has only been home for a day, and Mom was beyond pissed. 

A gun pointed towards them when her figure emerged in the hall. Well towards their dad...hopefully. Held the door as closed as it could get with him and Dad’s hand both blocking the frame, just in case. 

The kid swallowed, thick and heavy. _Never shoulda opened the door._ But his dad just rolled his eyes. Safety clicked off the gun. 

_“You left me here, in the middle of bumfuck with the kids AGAIN. I know what you were doing, I talked to Wintergreen. So don’t you dare play me for an imbecile, Slade Joseph Wilson. God help us I made you and I will take you down just as easy.”_

He didn’t expect to see this make his dad deflate like that. But the grumble of _“Grant take your brother to play outside”_ that came out him was less _imminent beating_ and more _listen while you can_. So the boy did. 

  


They built a fort out of the old firewood and the half broke dog kennel. Joey fell asleep a while after the sun finished going down and the stars peaked overhead. But Grant couldn’t close his eyes without seein the gun. Was still too young then to know what that meant. 

Just wrapped around and did his best to keep his brother warm instead. Watching the night critters slowly emerge or skitter from the noise. It beat closing them, at least. 

\---  


Wasn’t sure what time it would have been. Just late. Grant had been watching the lightning bugs flicker and float. Croak with the toads as Joey slept when the stretched creak of the back door broke through the night air. The snap of twigs and grass. Soon enough his dad’s face appeared in the opening of their fort. He didn’t look angry anymore, interested maybe. Kept his voice low, like they were hiding from the night. Or hiding from the noise and anger of before. 

“He been asleep a while?” 

Dark curls nodded in the moonlight and he looked down at his brother. 

“Well come on then, I won’t have you boys out here _all_ night.” 

Grant couldn’t ever remember exactly how old they had been then. But he knew they must've still been small enough to both fit in his dad’s arms to be carried back in. That Joey had woken up once back in the house and refused to sleep in his own bed after. Shaking his little head and pulling at covers until Grant let him in to stay. 

The snake of light from the hall because dad had left their door opened. The house quiet now and he had been afraid the peace wouldn’t keep if he got up and closed it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost odd, at first. Whenever his dad was suddenly back. Back then, Grant didn’t really understand it. Neither of the boys really did. Why he was gone then back. Be it for military purposes an early once upon a time and then well… others. Back then it wasn’t mercenary work or killing to them. It was just… dad gone. 

Almost surreal feeling mornings when he’d be there watching the tv. More yet when he'd shake him awake. Bark at him to get dressed. To follow him out. 

Squinting at the daylight through leaves. _How come Joey got to sleep in?_

They’d pick things up from the yard and surrounding woods. Dad didn’t talk much. Or at least not to him much. Not when there was an objective to be done. 

But it made the boy listen all the more when he did. 

“You look like your mother.” His dad knelt and twisted the brown curls between large fingers. Examining them almost softly. 

Grant just frowned. “Then how come she don’t like me much.” His dad just chuckled. Scooped him up in arms as if Grant was just a baby still. He almost resented it, but he also liked it when they had nice moments like this. When he was reminded at how big and strong his dad was but not in a scary, you’re misbehaving way. 

“She loves you plenty.” Said as if it were true. But he knew it wasn’t. 

“She loves _Joey.”_ He pointed out. Arms looping around his dad’s neck as he held onto his side with thighs. 

“She’s your mother and she loves you both. And I _won’t_ have you talking bad about her.” The eyes that turned down on him were cold again. _“Got it?”_

Just grumbled out a “Yes, sir.” and buried his head against his dad’s shoulder as he was walked back towards the truck. Large hand casually patting against his rear. 

  


They didn’t talk again until they were both in. Grant up front and the engine running. He peeped over from where his head rested on an arm half out the window. “Are you gonna leave again?” 

His dad didn’t answer outside of a grunted noise Grant couldn’t make heads or tails of. Turned the radio on instead. The boy just gave a huff of his own and looked back out the window. The gravel road moving beneath them and hum of summer sounds. 

They lived in Kentucky, and Grant only really knew this because of the sign they would drive past every time they went out and into town. The letters carved into a big wood log lookin marker. His dad had pointed it out the first time they drove past. 

Now, he wasn’t the best at reading, but there were a few words he knew pretty well. Kentucky, for one. Gun was another. Ammo, delicate and Wilson. Those were all his best words. 

Dad just huffed and chewed at a toothpick the whole rest of the way into town. He’d expected them to just stop off at the little store they always went to. Right by the edge of the wood. Grant picking himself up from his half out the window position when they just drove right on past it. 

“Where we goin?” 

“Your mother didn’t enroll you in school.” He just blinked, before furrowing his face. Turning to face his father fully and frown. Shook his head. 

“No school. Joey doesn’t go, _I don’t wanna.”_

There was a creak of knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Grant you gotta go to school. It isn’t a fucking question, okay? You’re not fucking five anymore, _man up.” _

Grant just kept scowling, twisting again to look out the windshield instead and bring his knees up towards his chest. Could feel the eyeroll that got him. 

“Besides Joey’s going to school now too, kid. Don’t be fucking stupid. You’re both supposed to be enrolled already.” 

“How was I supposed to know.” Shot over with a mini glare that seemed to catch his dad a moment.

“I—you wouldn’t. _Addie was supposed to—_you know what, _never mind._ You’re just a kid, Grant. Don’t be fucking smart with me.” A hand came up and shoved at the back of his head, pushing him forward enough that he had to readjust with a pout. “You are _going_ to school.” 

\--

When everything was said and through, school was weird. There was a whole bunch of other kids there and they wouldn’t let him and Joey be in the same class. No matter how hard he tried to hold onto his brother’s hand. 

Grant had shoved at the teacher that tried to tell them _No._

_“He’s my brother, can’t be mean to him.”_ Puffed up chest but all that earned him was his ‘first day back’ spent inside a bleak office and threats to call home. They even made Joey go to a separate building. 

A soft-spoken lady came around eventually, while he was curled up and glaring from a chair. She would seem nice, if Grant felt like he could trust her. But he didn’t. _“It’s where all the preschoolers go, Grant. We know you want to be a good big brother, but you have to let us do our jobs. You can’t act up to get your way, bud. No one is going to be mean to Joey, okay? I promise.” _

The seven-year-old had just looked at her for a long moment. A phrase he’d heard often enough from his daddy talking on the phone came to mind as the best response. “Your word means shit.” 

  


It wasn’t long after that when his dad showed up. 

And he was _pissed._ Grant shrunk down in his chair the moment he saw him. A large frame that filled a doorway. Tall enough that memory served to replace his father’s face with nothing but a shadow. 

_“Grant Slade Wilson.”_ He could still feel the way those words seemed to reverberate through the room. And just like that, the boy bolted. A motion that started all the rest. Breaths held and scurrying, movement and chaos reigned supreme for a solid 30 seconds in that small-town school office. 

It started with a flurry and ended with him scooped back up by his father, whose face was no longer a shadow at the distance, though it didn’t make it any less intimidating. _“It’s your first fucking day, kid. I ain’t got the time for this.”_ Grant gulped while his dad turned his attention towards the nearest staff member there. 

“What he do.” By all accounts it was a question. But the boy couldn’t register anything his father said in that tone as anything less than a demand. A statement, maybe. But a question? Oh no. In those moments, his father _knew everything._ Was an absolute. 

The voice that answered seemed impossibly confident. Cocksure. In Grant’s memory, it didn’t fit the moment. But what was even more impossible was the way his dad reacted to what they said. The gentle way he was put back down. The way that irritation and ire turned away from him and towards the desks. 

“You mean to tell me _my son_ is in trouble for _lookin out for his brother?”_ There were a few moments of processes before Grant realized what this meant. That dad was on his side. It had him stepping closer, next to his dad. Heart still thrumming, working to keep up. 

_“Fucking hacks._ C’mon Grant, let’s go.” Big hand in hair, fingers moved gently across his skull. “You ain’t done nothin wrong bud, let’s go get ice cream. School won’t start for you till next week, alright?” 

_“Sir—”_

“No. He’s my son and you obviously can’t handle him yet. Guess it was my bad for expecting better from America’s finest shit hole schools.” 

  


It had somehow turned into one of his favorite days. Dad hefting him back into the truck and even made good on that promise for ice cream. Mom wasn’t too thrilled, but then again she never was. So instead they had sat on the hood of the truck. Listening to the early autumn frogs and buzzing by the pond a few miles from home. 

“Perks of living out in the boondocks. We get all the best spots, eh Grant?” He nodded back with a mouthful of cold strawberry sweetness. _“Your mother just doesn’t get it..”_

Hadn’t been too sure what she didn’t get. But maybe it was because she was off inside someplace while they sat out here. Watching the sunshine in streams of the water, tiny winged critters landing on top of the pond. Just too small to break through. She didn’t get to feel the heat or the warmth of sunshine. The stillness of it all and comfortable weight of dad’s hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Grant. I only make good kids.” 

He’d smiled at that. At the silly feeling of a kiss pressed to his head, then his cheek. The corner of lips. “We don’t gotta tell your mom how much fun we had afterwards. We’ll say I made you haul firewood or some shit, right? Just some me and you time.” 

“She doesn’t get it.” 

He was pretty sure he was following along now. Keeping up right. It was like a secret between them. And the _“Exactly.”_ that brought out only affirmed it in the boy’s mind. The days strange success could be their secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i didn't originally go into this thinking it would be framed as a very memory based introspection sort of thing, but it's honestly felt sort of fitting for the kind of story I want to tell and been a lot of fun to write. Hopefully it's fun to read too.  
Hope yall enjoying this C:


	3. Chapter 3

His dad’s hair had been the same yellow as Joeys back then. Curling in swirls and pale in the sun, Grant couldn’t get the image of it out of his mind. The way it looked, the light blue of an eye. Other squeezed closed, the sight of a gun raised. Could still taste the excitement of the echoless crack of it going off, splitting the air around them. It had been the coolest thing the first few times. The boy jumping and hollering with grins. 

He’d been eager to go out _‘shootin’_ that day. Daddy always hit the mark and it sure as hell beat sitting at home all day after Joey got to leave. But that had been what _had_ to be hours ago. The sun looked all different, less yellow like his pop’s hair and more golden. Mac n cheesy almost. And now it seemed like all he got to do was sit on this fence and hold the drinks for his dad and his friend. They were weird sort of friends, didn’t seem to enjoy each other much, or play around and laugh even. Just grim expressions when it got down to it. Talk of targets, jobs and marks. Talk of his mom, of taking a break. The angry way that idea seemed to sit with this Wintergreen guy. _Who trusts a guy with a gum name? _

The guy eyed him too. Where the kid was sitting on the fence and smelling the cans they’d given him to hold. Nose scrunching some. Must be the same stuff his dad drank well, most of the time. 

_“It’s a distraction.”_ Felt very pointed towards him. So Grant gave a scrunched up ugly face to gum head back.

“It’s my family. _My son,_ Wintergreen. You wouldn’t get it.” Whatever concerns shoved off so easily as more gunshots rang out. The metal of the targets dinging and indenting. Grant realized he’d never get to see any rabbits out here with all the noise. Kinda sucked, he liked watchin' them. 

“You wouldn’t believe the level of interest in your services right now. _There’s money to be made here. Real fucking stupid money.” _

“Got money left.” His dad threw down and swapped out guns. “Find someone else. I’m taking a break before Addie sells our fucking kids.” The so proclaimed _friend_ just huffed, and Grant was starting to settle on not really liking him. But he didn’t really have any friends himself besides the pigeons and rabbits he watched, so maybe it was just one of those things he was too stupid yet to get. 

Was thirsty, sitting out here in the leave speckled sunshine, so he bit the funky smelling bullet so to speak and took a gulp. But one of the beers was taken from his hands when Wintergreen stepped back and towards him again. _“You’re too young for this stuff, Grant.”_ He just scowled and grumped. Sipped his daddy’s beer in protest of that remark, even if it tasted terrible. Missed his brother, didn’t think it was fair that they would just send him away like this _every day._ Especially if Grant wasn’t even going to school. _They were brothers they should both go together or not at all._

“He’s plenty old enough to understand the concept of fucking holding something.” His dad didn’t see the funny face gum man made at that but finally there was a smile at the end of it. And it almost felt directed _at_ him. Which at this point in his life didn’t really happen much. Enough so that it confused Grant into smiling too, and the friend of pops tapped his can against the one he held. Felt like another one of them secret good moments as he sipped the rotten drink again and watched his dad shoot. 

“Still say you’re missing a golden opportunity, Slade. Don’t think I won’t find someone else, either.” The way this guy called towards his dad was like somethin' outta a movie. Casual and steady. When most people who tried to just casually talk to his dad... It never really went like this. Maybe they _were_ friends. 

Grant didn’t know. Only knew that Dad lied to Mom about him. And that as the day wore on, he was getting sick of sittin’ out here like this. Of the smells and the bugs. Of feelin’ like he was being ignored, even more so when they’d moved towards the huntin’ shed.  


  
Dad wouldn’t let him go inside, so he’d had to sit out by a dinky wood table alone for a long while. Couldn’t even hear a whisper or a creak of whatever was going on in there. And when they came back, Wintergreen was holding a big metal case and all the guns were gone again.

“Wanna see inside.” All that got him was a slap to the head and little shove away from the shed again. 

“We already had this conversation, don’t push it, Grant.” 

A hard look from his dad and that was the end of it. Even if it rumbled with a million other things in Grant’s chest. He shoved it down and held onta it. Pushed it deep into his belly, back where the gross beer swirled and simmered. Grant did that with most everything. Because well, when it came out, things never ended up really well for him.

So the boy just huffed. Felt small and alone out here even with the two adults. “Daad. Let’s go get Joey.” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Joey got to go to school all week without him. _Again._ That Grant was left home to do nothin’ all day. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it’s been, because well, back then all the days sorta blurred together. But it felt like longer than it was supposed to be.

He’d almost expected another smack upside the head, but Dad must’ve been in a good mood because all he did was grumble out a “Yea, suppose it is gettin' round that time.” 

To which Winter-gum-man just rolled his eyes. “Dear lord, Slade, you even sound like these hillbillies.” Walking towards the truck and the guy’s car too. “Don’t be a stranger, Wilson. I’ll be here when you’re done playing house.”

The way it ended, it sounded sorta friendly to Grant again. So he doled out a little wave and half smile, contrast to the gruff response his father gave as they all hopped in respective cars. It’s not that Grant _wanted_ to be friends with Wintergreen, it’s just well, he didn’t really know anybody else.

\---

They had ended up sittin' out in the truck in front of the school for a while. So long in fact, that they’d turned it off and Dad reached for him. Situating Grant in his lap instead as they lolled there and waited. But Grant liked these moments, they were better than most others. Dad’s fingers carding through his hair with little pulls and twists. 

Sometimes daddy would even lean in closer to his head, call him _my pretty boy._ Grant liked the way this attention felt. It was softer than most of what he got. And when he was with his dad, especially in his lap like this, well Grant felt like they were invincible. _Who could ever take his dad on?_

Finally, the kids and teachers started spilling out of the great big brick building. Somehow the sight of it and other people made his dad’s hand feel all the warmer against the skin of his chest, where it had slipped beneath the fabric of a worn red shirt. 

Thought he maybe saw Joey, so tried to sit up and wiggle back into his own spot up front when that hand stopped him in his tracks. Held him close and pressed him tighter against Dad’s chest. _“You’ll always be my special boy, got it Grant?”_

Grant just nodded, didn’t know why his insides swirled as daddy’s fingers stroked over his chest and belly again before he was let out. But he did know that being let go felt like letting out a breath he’d held for too long. Crawling back over to his side of the front as Pop leaned out his window. Two fingers in his mouth as he whistled for Joey's attention. 

A tight, almost sad smile and little wave from his baby brother before he got some stringy lookin' ladies attention and motioned over towards them. Following her nod and sweet smile, Jo-joe looked both ways in the parking lot and shuffled over. 

Whole ride home, Joey just bounced and babbled along about _P.E._ and his _teacher_ and _all his new friends. Again._ Grant always thought he missed his baby brother so much when he was away. Until they went and picked him up, then _all he did_ was talk about _school._ About what cool things he did and the people he got to meet. Pulling at Grant’s ear and arms when he’d stop paying attention. 

He just wanted to look out the window instead. Ears burning, he could feel himself snap as smacked the little hands away. Holding them down against Joey’s sides. Aggressively ignoring protests and squirms, Grant shushed his brother to talk over him at Dad. _“I wanna go too.”_ Announced it with his chest. Was sick of being left out. Of Joey havin’ all the fun. 

What he hadn’t been thinkin' would happen next was the scoff and the harsh laugh. The mix between mean and funny _“What?”_ his dad returned with. 

But Grant just stuck to his guns. “School. Wanna go too, like Joey. _M’ready!”_

_“Yea?_ How about you’ll be good and ready _when I say_ you’re ready, Grant.” Less funny and more mean in that, it was met with the same strength the boy gave out. Had his stomach lowering and the kid swallowed. Even Joey had shut up at dad’s tone. But at least he did stop fighting against Grant’s arms. Lil Joey pressed in closer as if they had been hugging, not fighting, instead. 

He huffed. Loud and annoyed, pulled back away from his brother again. It earned Grant a sharp look but they’d pulled up to the house now and it all was left to twist and swirl, like nails and beer in his belly again. 

\--

Grant wasn’t sure what exactly _‘ready when I say you’re ready’_ meant or when it would be. Just knew it wasn’t the following days. _Hell_ it wasn’t even the following week or two. Knew that nothing felt too good in that swirl of in-between time. 

Stuck at home more than ever, dad didn’t even take him out anymore. If he went outside, it was to wander the woods alone. Jabbing sticks into trees and catching bugs to pull off their wings an’ legs. Watch em squirm and move their lumps of bodies in useless circles. It felt as good as it felt terrible, and if finally smashing them to bits with rocks made his eyes well up with stupid tears, well then it was good that nobody was around to see it. To care that he was acting like such a sissy. 

What somehow seemed to hurt worst was when everyone was home again. When the sun slunk lower by the trees and hills and it started to get too cold to just sit outside in the dirt. Grant was learning to hate most watching his little brother and Addie sit together and read through Joey’s homework. Even if Ma seemed a little mean and over rigid about it. He didn’t know how to say he wanted that, _how to feel that._ He just hovered. Tried to pay attention without drawing enough attention to be shooed way by ma. 

It never really worked. _“Go and bother your father.”_

So he did. Except dad was just sittin' in his chair, watching t.v. and holding a beer. Like usual. Like always. And when the volume increased when Grant tried to talk, it was only natural, only brewing, to get _mad._ The kinda mad that later in life, he feared was hereditary, was something that would link him and his _fucking_ father forever. The mad that easily bred into bad behavior. 

Grant just shoved at his old man. _“Read.”_

“Leave me be, kid.”

He shoved him again, harder this time. It was hard to move someone as big as his dad but he’d managed to rock him some in the chair. Face still frowning and twisted despite the accomplishment. Too angry to care. 

_“I said leave me the fuck alone, Grant.”_

Just huffed and halfway through the third shove, his dad finally stands. The height always incredible in his memory from back then, but even for how big and imposing his father was—_father is,_ Grant pushed out his chest. Stood his ground as Dad tossed the t.v. remote on the previously occupied seat. As it bounced against cushion, the boy kicked him. Points towards his mom and brother. 

Joey was on her lap still. Tried to watch them but Addie's fingers tapped at the book. Pinched his side til he pouted and turned back.

“What you fucking want, boy. Come on and speak, you think you’re a fucking man now?” Cruel spin in words that always came with a long day of drinking and doing nothing from his dad. Then the solid smack connecting at his ear as if to drive in the point. That he wasn’t a man, just some kid that was easy to hit. Easy to make him stumble back. 

Grant glaring back up through the heft of dark curls that fell in his face. It was Ma who chimed in. “What he _wants_ is his father to pay attention to him.” Addie hadn’t even looked at them, from where she sat, stroking lil Joey’s hair. And even in memory the words still feel like a jab. At his dad or at him, he’s still not sure. Just remembers rubbing at where dad hit his head, watching the delicate way his moms slender fingers carded through Joey's pale curls. Thinkin' about how much better that must feel. 

His dad huffed, agitated and aggressive. _“Kick me again and you’ll get some attention from daddy’s belt, kid.”_

All this hurt, this mad of bad little boys, of angry Wilsons, swimming in Grant’s eyes and chest. This time and over and over again for years to come. No, it wasn’t tears or whines Grant met his father with. It was another kick, or maybe it had been a shove. But something physical, the language he knew his dad to understand. The only one it seemed like either of them really fucking knew. 

He could never remember what happened after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if anyone reading this question : would you like a Slade POV maybe in the next chapter or to keep it all as it's been ? Also damn thank you for reading this. Hope you're enjoying it as much as i do <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not heading my tags, why are you reading this?? If you are, I hope you enjoy it. c:

When Grant woke up, he hurt, and they ended up havin' to wait for the bruises to heal before he could be sent off to school again anyways. Or at least Grant’s pretty sure that’s what had happened. Everything back then was either a blur or left imprinted in vivid, impossible detail. 

For better or for worse, that was just life. No matter who you were.

The same as how Saturday mornings' were for any errands or outside chores, no matter what the weather was like outside. An if the boy pouted, a red knitted hat was thrown his way with a gruff, _suck it up_ and well, that was that. This particular day had started with choppin' firewood, just as the sun peeked up behind the dirt and brush of the earth. Low pinks and golds illuminating more and more of their silhouettes and of the wood by the minute. Made it go much quicker when he could see proper. 

Grant was still too small to do the main choppin. Though his pop _had_ let him hold the ax sometimes, and he even got a hatchet to hack off the little outcroppings of all the almost branches-to-be that never will. 

_“How come Joey doesn’t haveta do this?”_

“Your brother’s too young, he’d just slow us down.” Grant had huffed at that, it earned him a stern glance but not much else. 

When the sun was sittin' comfortable in the sky and all the piles brought back to the shed, Dad had told him not to bother with going back in. “Just wait by the truck.” Shifting on his feet and doing just so until his pop came back out, couple sandwiches in hand and keys. 

  


Grant found he didn’t even care what kind they were. Scarfed the food down so fast, it made his father’s laughter echo through the cab of the truck. Hand coming to rake through brown waves while the other kept the wheel straight. “Worked up an appetite, huh?” 

“Guess so” it was enough to make the boy smile too. He didn’t ask where they were going, just enjoyed the ride into town. And finally after a good bit of time the truck tutted and came to a stop in a mostly empty parking lot. Was when his dad didn’t move to get out right away that Grant found himself interested enough to risk a question. 

“Where we at?” 

Then it kinda sat between them a moment before gave a pointed glance towards a big sign on he front of the building. “What, you can’t fucking read?” 

So Grant squinted at the lettering. All backed in red, but some of it looked so weird, and well, he wasn’t really very good at reading words that weren’t the ones he knew and was good at. And Grant ended up pressing lips together after the attempts made him get all angry. _Feel stupid._ “Well if _you_ can read so good, why don’t ya just tell me.” 

That next laughter that came didn’t feel nearly as nice as the bit before when he was eatin. Grant hated the way it seemed to sting at his face. Warm and sticky and mean. 

“Well aint that something.” Pop just shook his head, turned off the truck. “Come on.” 

He hadn’t cared before, or even noticed that he didn’t know what those stupid words said. And Grant was plenty used to just sucking up questions and doing or going and following pop around, especially on these days. It was what they did. But now, now it felt like the big white letters were mocking him as bad as pop was. And the last thing he was gonna do was just walk into that store not knowing what it was. Not when dad knew and refused to tell him just because he was mean. 

Grant just pushed further in his seat. Huffed. “Tell me what is says, _you know,_ so just say.”

Not much ever made his dad stop in his tracks as fast as when his boy refused to listen. Large hands coming over to pull arms that had tried to settle over Grant’s chest back uncrossed. “If I just flat tell you all the god damn time you’ll never learn. Seem too slow to pick up on the lessons I _do_ impart so what’s to make me think, me telling your stupid ass that _A C and E_ spell Ace, would be any different, huh Grant?" Had tried to push the hands away, but it only made his pop shove all the harder. "Tell me that if you’re so smart. If you wanna be the parent now.” 

Hand suddenly shoving the boy’s chest back into the seat and holding him there with strength he couldn’t ever hope to match. “Like _this,_ boy. This is a lesson, a lesson that the strong _and only the strong_ can get their way, can survive. And when you’re like this-” Hand on his chest eased up just to shove and pin him back against the seat once again. “Now there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do to stop me from doing what I want, is there?” 

The kid had just stammered. Tried to move, to move his dad’s hand away from his chest, but all that came of it was both his own wrists somehow pinned in his father’s strong grip. The man leaning in close. “Answer the question, Grant. Or are you too stupid for lessons spelled out for you, too?” 

_“I--”_ There hadn’t been time to figure out words to say to this, the more he struggled, the harder daddy held him, the more it hurt. He already felt stupid and useless and now dad didn’t even wait for him to try to answer. He’d taken too long before the man had hummed. 

“Maybe this’ll help teach you..” Free hand of his pop’s went down to the fastenings on the boy’s pants. And if Grant had stilled in his struggles, they kicked right back up again with a fever of desperation. Mostly because he didn’t know what was happening now. Why was he..? 

Then there was a warm hand down _there,_ holding him where boys were sensitive, and trailing and running fingers all over. He was at a loss of what to do or say. Just froze with his mouth open. Something about this, whatever this was, sent something electric and crazy through his body. All pooled around where his pop’s hand was rubbing now. Dad’s face suddenly close enough, he was sure to be able to feel the heat of embarrassment from the boy’s own. 

“You feel this, yea?” He almost missed the way pop’s own voice seemed to shake as well. “And there's nothing you can do about it, son. You can struggle and complain but _this,_ this is how life fucking works.” 

Grant could hear his blood in his ears, though nothing could be louder than pop’s voice. Could feel himself shake and nod. Kept nodding, trying to get daddy to get that he understood. That he gets it. But daddy didn’t stop. Hand moving fast and quicker until Gran't felt like he could hardly breathe. Till he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his face against his dad’s chest, trying to muffle a slew of desperate noises. Any _stops_ or _nos,_ fell on deaf ears. It was his dad's voice saying: _This is how the world works_. Didn't stop until it felt like everything was twitching and all at once, his vision went white.

Grant couldn't tell you how many moments actually lay between that moment and the next. 

The one where he was gasping as he tried to be able to think at least a little bit again. That big hand now moving slow. Fingers rubbing every last bead of something sticky up and down an all over his little shaft. Then Pop tucked it softly back into boxers and pants as the boy whimpered. 

A steady kiss pressed against Grant’s cheek, it took a moment for him to realize he wasn’t being held down no more. Daddy making shushing noises and pulling the boy into his lap now instead. He had been so mad at him before, but now Grant couldn’t remember any of that. Could only focus on the warm and steady way his back was stroked, how his dad’s voice had gotten so gentle and soft. _“Shh shh Grant, you know daddy loves you._ I’m just trying to teach you lessons no one else will. Got it?” 

Again, Grant just nodded.  
“I only ever want what’s best for you, one day you’ll see.” 

Another kiss pressed to brown curls, and in the next couple of minutes, he was carried in arms out the truck. Set back on his own feet only when they were just outside the hardware store. 

“Come on, boy. We still got some shit to do today.”


End file.
